Reflections on aging, movement, and the grace of beginning again
Tonight, I’m taking my very first Pilates reformer class at Studio Bodi.
Yup! At 67, I’ve decided it’s time to start taking better care of my body.
Not because I’m chasing the body I had at 30 or 40, or because I have some grand ambition to become a fitness enthusiast. Those days of pushing myself through gym workouts, lifting weights, or working with personal trainers seem rather distant now.
I’ve done the traditional gym routines, including working out at places like Éconofitness. I’ve worked with trainers and tried different approaches to keeping fit. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realize that what worked for my younger body doesn’t necessarily work for the body I inhabit today.
And perhaps, more importantly, what my body needs today is not necessarily what it needed twenty years ago.
Learning to Listen to an Aging Body
After more than thirty years working in early childhood education, my body has certainly done its share of physical labour.
Years of bending, lifting, kneeling, sitting on tiny chairs, getting down on the floor with children, and rising again have taken their toll. It is work I have loved, but it is also work that demands much more physically than people sometimes realize.
And then there is arthritis.
The aching knees, the stiffness, the muscles that complain after an ordinary day. There are mornings when getting moving takes a little longer than it once did. Sometimes I need my cane, and sometimes I have to acknowledge that sheer determination isn’t enough to overcome physical limitations.
Aging has a way of reminding us that we are not invincible.
I have never been particularly interested in pretending otherwise.
But neither do I want to surrender to the assumption that growing older means simply accepting an increasingly sedentary life.
There must be a middle ground between pushing a body beyond its limits and allowing it to become weaker through inactivity.
Finding a Different Way to Move
That is what has drawn me toward Pilates, particularly reformer Pilates.
Unlike some of the weight-training routines I’ve tried in the past, Pilates emphasizes controlled movement, alignment, balance, flexibility, and strengthening the muscles that support the body.
For someone living with arthritis and the ordinary wear and tear of aging, that approach appeals to me.
I am less interested in how much weight I can lift and more interested in how comfortably I can move.
Can I strengthen the muscles supporting my knees? Improve my balance? Maintain my mobility? Move with greater confidence and perhaps experience fewer aches in everyday life?
These are the things that matter to me now.
Of course, Pilates is not a miracle cure, and I know that even gentle-looking exercises can be challenging. I’ll need to respect my limitations and make adjustments where necessary.
But I am willing to try.
And that, in itself, feels like a small beginning.
The Body as a Gift, Not an Afterthought
As I reflected on why I finally decided to take this step, another thought came to mind.
God gave me this body. It is a gift, a vessel through which I live, love, work, create, and experience His creation.
For years, much of my attention has been directed toward the interior life — prayer, reflection, writing, spiritual formation, and learning to recognize God’s grace in the ordinary moments of life.
I have spent considerable time thinking about what it means to grow spiritually, to become more patient, more loving, more accepting, and more attentive to God’s presence.
But spiritual growth does not mean neglecting the physical body.
We are not disembodied souls moving through the world. We are human beings, wonderfully and sometimes frustratingly embodied.
Our bodies carry our histories.
Mine carries decades of working with children, raising a family, creating art, travelling, kneeling in prayer, and navigating the many ordinary demands of life.
It also carries the marks of aging, illness, injury, and exhaustion.
And yet, this is still the body through which I experience the world God has given me.
Saint Paul reminds us:
“Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you?” — 1 Corinthians 6:19
I’ve often considered this passage in relation to how we live our lives, but perhaps there is also a very practical dimension to it.
Caring for the body is not simply about appearance or physical achievement. It can also be an act of gratitude — a quiet way of saying thank you to the God who entrusted this body to me.
Choosing to rest when we are exhausted. Learning to say no when we have reached our limits. Recognizing when something in our lives needs attention rather than simply pushing through.
And perhaps, in my case, signing up for a Pilates class.
There is something rather humbling about beginning something new at 67.
I am not expecting to move like a twenty-year-old. I am not even expecting to move like the woman I was ten years ago.
What I am hoping for is something much simpler: to become a little stronger, a little more flexible, and a little more comfortable in the body I have today.
I have spent much of my life caring for others — my children, the young children entrusted to me in my work, and the people I love. Caring for others has always come naturally. Caring for myself, particularly in a deliberate and sustained way, has sometimes taken a back seat.
Perhaps this is another lesson in becoming.
Learning that caring for myself does not mean withdrawing care from others. It means recognizing that I, too, am someone entrusted to my care.
Growing Older, Still Becoming
I cannot reverse the years, nor would I necessarily want to.
Each year has brought experiences that have shaped who I am. Some have been joyful, others painful. Some have strengthened me, while others have taught me the necessity of surrender.
My body tells part of that story.
And although I cannot erase the arthritis or undo the wear and tear of decades, I can choose how I respond to the body I have now.
Perhaps the goal is not to reclaim youth but to preserve the freedom to continue living fully within the years God grants me.
To walk, to travel, to create, to spend time with family, to work with children, and to remain engaged with the world around me.
And perhaps to get up from the floor without quite so much groaning! 🤣
There is no guarantee that Pilates will be the answer. I may discover muscles I had forgotten existed, and tomorrow morning I may be wondering what on earth possessed me to sign up.
But I am willing to begin.
Because becoming is not only a spiritual journey. It is also lived through the ordinary, physical realities of being human.
God has given me this body, not as something to worship or something to neglect, but as something to care for with gratitude.
So tonight, I begin with a reformer, a little curiosity, and hopefully a patient instructor.
Not to become younger.
Not to become someone else.
But to care a little better for the person I am still becoming.
And perhaps that, too, is a quiet work of faith.
— Linda Lok
Postscript: I Survived!
Well, I survived my first Pilates reformer class. Sort of. I lasted thirty minutes out of fifty before my body politely informed me that enough was enough. I was sweating, my legs were working, and my lower back was certainly participating. Apparently, becoming stronger at 67 requires a little humility, too!
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